Surfing the Storm
by malfunctionjunction
Summary: She was the hurricane and he was the harbor. Each year he would build his wall to withstand her, and each year she would blow it down with her presence. He should have given up, but years later he still found himself preparing for her.IchiRuki.
1. Prologue: His Green Mile

**Disclaimer: **I do not in anyway own Bleach. Tite Kubo owns it and it is better off that way. :)

**IchiRuki prologue: **If you're reading this then you must like or have a slight interest in IchiRuki. I like IchiRuki; you like IchiRuki. We all like IchiRuki.

**Read. Relish. Review.**

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The weather was turning on him. It started off as a peaceful, restful day. Now, the storm was rising closer and closer to the city. He should have been at home with his family. He should have been away from where he stood. Standing in front of the heart of the storm, the waves crashing upon one another, and the sky transforming from a tranquil light blue to a dangerous gray he knew he should not have been there.

He continued to walk down the boardwalk as if it was his green mile.

Lightning struck the air. Thunder roared. The wind grew angry with him, pushing him back in a threatening way. She didn't want him to enter where he knew where he belonged. She didn't want him to feel the sense of liberation. He was a stubborn young man. He held no anger to nature, but he was not one to abide by the rules society expected him to follow. He was not going to follow the rules of nature.

He made it to the edge.

He could hear the sirens, the wails. They were preparing for the incoming storm. Sandbags were piled by the shore, separating the sea from land. Men in black raincoats, even women in black rain coats were piling together, willing to fight off Mother Nature for a few more hours. He was sure his father was there, or he was on his way to it.

His father didn't know he was there.

He wasn't going to let him find out, not like this.

To be one with mother nature was what he wanted, but he also held the willpower to challenge her. He had no desire to submit to her rule, and he would refuse any pressure to do so.

What he was doing, it was stupid.

He knew it.

The moment he left the house he knew what he was going to do. Each step was a sign of his defiance, his rebellion. Each step told him that there was no other way, and the only way out of this was to do what he was about to do.

He had to loosen his muscles. It was important that he loosen his muscles. Stretching his muscles, he could feel the tight coils inside were stretching, relieving them of the stress put on them. He bent back, hearing the sharp cracking sounds in his back. In his perspective, it was a good sign. He couldn't afford for anything to be out of place or tightened; he had to be loose, his body and mind.

The storm was approaching quickly. The wind became more demanding, the sea was angrier, the lightening and thunder roared and struck on. All of the elements were going against him, they didn't want him to go in. They didn't want him to sync with the sea; they didn't want him to sync with her.

_Her._

His heart swelled. Any thoughts of her made him react that way. Impulsive, arrogant, affectionate. She made him into something he never believed he could or would be, and at the same time he was the same person. He fought for her. He gave everything he had to give. Still, it was not enough.

The storm drew on.

The volunteers got louder, stubborn.

If he did this, most likely he will die. His heart probably couldn't take it. His mind probably couldn't handle the stress. His body would break down from the pressure. All the well, the elements were. They were against him. No one thought he would succeed, and when he did they would be green envy because in all honesty they didn't want him to succeed.

His judgment was final.

His resolve was clear.

He opened his amber, brown eyes. Full of life, full of vigor. He looked on into the storm without fear, and while the volunteers made their final preparations, he made his. This was the moment he had been waiting for without realizing it.

So many years.

So _long_ he had waited.

He had no reasons. He had no drives.

She did. She had reasons. She had drives.

She had _so_ much.

That was what compelled him to her.

The shine in her eyes, the scent of her hair, the curve of her body.

Her drive.

Her happiness, her anger, her emotion.

Ichigo had made a promise to her. He was going to keep it. He was a man of his word.

_Stop._

No, he wasn't going to. This was the final judgment; man versus nature. Stories always went to the side of nature, but not this time, he would win.

He heard a crack. The boardwalk was old, older than most, and it could barely hold his weight. He wasn't going to be up for long. The rain was stinging him now; whipping and slapping into his face, he closed his eyes to make the pain pass. The wind had become violent; even with his weight he couldn't stand upright. He stumbled from left to right. The waves were getting higher; water splashed on him, pushing him back, but he didn't fall.

The rain. Each rain drop was a memory of her fell on his face, stinging, burning him.

"Sir?"

One of the men in the black raincoats had seen him. Carefully, he made his way to the boardwalk, making sure he didn't get on it fully. He was far enough to where Ichigo could hear him.

"Hey Sir, you shouldn't be up there! Get down!"

He didn't respond. He was stalling, and his legs remained glued to the weakened wood. Even the painted colors on the wood had either been washed away by the water or stripped off by the years.

"The storm! Its getting down, what are you doing?"

He made a promise to her.

Kurosaki Ichigo was a man of his word. He wasn't going to fail her, not now. He failed her once before, and he would not allow it to happen again.

The man in the black raincoat called out to him again, "Sir, Sir please get down from there. You'll die if you don't!"

It was a high probability, but Ichigo could feel that he would outmatch nature.

"Are you insane!"

Putting himself into position, forcing his eyes to stay open for the descend, Ichigo plunged in. In that moment he seemed so much like a professional swimmer. His arms pointed downwards, his body straight, and his eyes focused, he left the world of land without a grimace. The man in the black raincoat cried out frantically to him before running off to report to the other volunteers of what he had witnessed.

It was a good day to swim.

The water wasn't cold. The rain had caused his body to warm up, and when he hit the water he didn't feel the instant rush of coolness as he normally would when he swam in any type of water. At first, it was difficult, the currents and waves thrashing him around challenged him. Somehow he found a way to push his arms and legs, taking control of the situation. He took adult steps in contrast to baby ones, and he went further out to sea.

Deeper, deeper, and deeper he went into the dark abyss.

Oblivion.

The deeper he plunged, regardless of his limited air supply, the more alive he felt.

It had been too long.

Too many years. Too many years of waiting.

The rush made him feel alive again.

Hopefully, she too would feel alive again. He knew she needed it more than him.

This was the ending.

This was the beginning.

Ichigo knew it all depended on him at how it would end. His actions kept the pendulum working; the rotation of the world was in his watery currents. As he continued to swim deeper into the dark, watery depths of abyss he held onto that fact. It was his silver lining of hope.

_I made a promise to her. I am a man of my word._

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**A/N: **End of prologue. If I receive reviews or any sort of feedback, reviews are loved as well, I will update this baby. I hope you all enjoyed the shortness; I had fun writing it.

Have a great and safe weekend!


	2. My Name isn't Girl

**A/N: **Thank you for the reviews. I appreciate them all, and yes we authors have a habit of doing it. I hope Chapter 2 is as pleasing as the prologue. Please, leave all constructive criticisms and thoughts in a review.

**Disclaimer:** Tite Kubo owns Bleach. I am only a fan who loves IchiRuki too much for her own good.

**Read. Relish. Review.**

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Masaki had sensed the approaching danger before it happened.

She had been watching Ichigo playing in his floaters not too far off from where she was on the beach. There could've been a scent in the air, or a sign, but she admitted to herself afterwards that was not the case. She felt something wrong, off about the day, and because she couldn't exactly pinpoint it, she brushed if off as mere inconvenience.

Then she saw the tide coming in.

Instincts turned into action, and she raced out to sea when Ichigo was pulled away by the sea. Her husband and many others told it was suicide to go out there. It didn't make sense for her daughters to be motherless as well. Their words fell on deaf ears; Masaki was made of pure conviction. Her conviction was to save her only son and firstborn, and she dared anyone to try and stop her.

In the rush, Ichigo was separated from his Akita, Kon. His floaters were destroyed by the intense currents; his small body fought to stay afloat, but it was no use. The pressure of the sea managed to subdue him, and his last act before he lost conscious was reaching out to the light of the sun. Everything else was just a black blur.

_They still needed their mother_, they said. You should leave it to the coast guards, they said. _Think of your daughters, they're not even three yet_, they said. None of it made sense to her, and in instances such as that never did.

_"Ichigo still needs his mother."_

Isshin was worried, but his body was not equipped to handle the waves. His love for his wife was great, but his love for son was equal to that. If Masaki was capable of bringing him back, and he knew she was, he would let her do it. Besides, there was no way to stop her anyways. Once her mind was made up, there was no turning back.

"Trust me. I can do it."

"I know you can."

She dove into the warm water. It had been years, not too long but not enough, since she swam so recklessly. She could feel the muscles in her legs and arms tightening; the strenuous activity was making itself known. Keeping her mouth tightly shut, seawater splashed into her face, obscuring her view. She remembered exactly where Ichigo was when he was pulled in; she was going to make it to him.

_"She'll never make it, those poor children."_

Doubt and uncertainty would be her ruin if she permitted them to be. She ignored the harsh comments from the others on the shore. If she allowed them to get to her, her body would wind down and her mind would lose focus. She and Ichigo would both be doomed. Twinges of soreness swam through her body, legs and arms primarily, but that too had to be ignored. Any sign of doubt, pain, or conflicting had to be ignored.

She made it to the last place he was seen. She called out his name several times; when she didn't get a reply it confirmed her worst fears. He had been pulled under, deeply. Without a second thought, Masaki sucked in her breath and plunged into the depths of the water, determined to pull Ichigo out.

Terror plagued her, but she told herself that was okay. It was expected; after all, she was a mother. Her son had been ripped from her by uncontrollable forces, and once again she willing to fight those very forces.

Attempt number one was a failure. She didn't see him and had to return to the top.

Attempt number two was better. Holding her breath longer and diving deeper, her eyes shined with relief when she spotted his orange patch of hair. Her mistake was opening her mouth in excitement, and she had to return again.

She didn't stay for long.

Immediately, she dove for her third and final try.

_Move fast, Masaki. Don't go up._

He was sinking fast, too fast. A piece of his floater floated to the surface, but it passed by her without making itself known. She forced her body beyond its limits, biting off the bitter taste of the sea as it swept through the cracks in her mouth. Ignoring the rancid taste, her hand stretched closer to his orange hair, the tip of her fingers touching the ends of his hair. She cursed herself for not getting it the first time, but she didn't stop from there. She was close, so close to him.

_Ichigo…_

The feeling her heart was experiencing was not fear nor was it relief. It wasn't a bad feeling, but it wasn't a good feeling either. Her hand grabbed a fistful of his hair, and she tugged on it fiercely. Panic rose in her when he didn't respond to the contact, but first things were first. She had to get him to shore and make sure that he wasn't alive.

She ignored the harsh comments, the pain, and the doubt. This feeling, whatever it was, she would ignore as well, for Ichigo's sake.

Isshin went into action when Masaki made it to shore with Ichigo's limp body in her arms. His voice echoed on the silent beach as he hollered at the crowd to give them space, let his wife do her work.

Ichigo wasn't breathing. His small chest didn't rise and fall as it should have.

She sensed the amazement radiating from the crowd, but she could also feel the pity as well. It was almost telling, _"So close. She didn't make it in time."_

Again, they were ignored.

Tearing off the remains of his floaters and laying him on his back on the sand, she immediately started to do CPR.

She didn't believe time could stand still for so long as it did on that day. Exactly five minutes it had taken her, maybe even less, to get Ichigo's heart beating again. She was frantic at that point, not seeing his chest rising and falling did that to her; her mask of determination and deny the inevitable prevented anyone from knowing her panic. Pushing back her fear, Masaki continued on. One. Two. Three. Pump. One. Two. Three. Breathe. She couldn't give up; giving up was not part of the equation.

"Ichigo?"

How long had it been? Was she too late? Water flew from his mouth onto her face in a reaction so quick, so fluid, that she didn't know what to do with herself. Emotions were flooding through her, and when she saw those big, beautiful amber eyes her eyes swelled up with tears. She grabbed for him in a deep embrace, and while the cheering of the crowd was nice, hearing and feeling the sound of his heartbeat was even better.

"Oh Ichigo, I am so happy."

"Mom," he coughed, "Mom, Mom, why are you crying?"

"Don't worry about me Ichigo. I'm just glad that you're safe."

"Mom…"

_Are you okay?_

"Mom…"

_You're lucky you know._

"Mom?"

_You could have drowned._

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He was wet. It was the first thing to register in his brain when his eyes shot open. He ignored the dulling discomfort around the rims; instead, he focused on the condition of his body. He was incredibly wet, drenched, soaked, and dripping. From the top of his strawberry blond hair to the tip of his cut toenails, he was drenched in water. Licking his lips, he could taste the bitterness of salt, signaling it was not filtered water he was drenched in. Slowly, he breathed, his body finally taking over the strange situation. His chest rising and falling at a much steadier rate, his eyes peered off into the distance; he could see stars. Above the stars he could see dark, and inside the dark, among the stars, he could see a white orb of light, the moon.

Sense after sense was returning to him. His fingers dug into material that was soft, mushy. It was dense but not heavy in any way. It was smooth when pressed but it held a crunchy, nearly rough texture. Raising his hand, Ichigo forced his eyes to focus on the material in his hands. He rubbed it with his index finger and opened his palm. The light was not direct; he could see pieces falling to the ground, and his mind registered-sand.

He pushed his body up. Sand. His eyes stretched as he came face to face with a rising tide. Water pushed in, going so close it nearly touched the end of his toes, but it wasn't close enough. It was pulled back from where it came, and then it repeated its process again and again. Overhead, the moon was reflected on the waves. It was a rippled replica of itself in comparison to its straight and clear form. Carefully, he removed his eyesight from the glow of the water moon and onto his sides. He was searching for his belongings, and an outlandish flood of relief came to him when he saw that his belongings were indeed on the shore as well.

The muscles in his body were sore; when he finally pushed his body upwards onto his feet, he winced. Tentaviely, he crossed several feet towards his board and bag. His board was deemed average, and the colors on it-a mixture of read and blue proposed a variety of beliefs. Typical. Average. Dangerous. Exotic. When he touched it, his fingers barely scraping it, he wondered how he arrived from the sea onto the shore. His possessions inside his bag, they were all there-including his cell phone. Although he was entirely relieved all of his possessions were safe and still in his grasp, he could not fend off that strange feeling, nagging feeling that something was off-definitely off.

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She watched with feign interest. Not entirely interested with him, but not entirely disinterested with him. It had been approximately ten minutes since he had awakened, but he was oblivious to her presence. A sly smile spread on her face; she could leave and he wouldn't know it. However, an unknown force was making her stay still, and she didn't feel the need to attempt to fight it.

He was an interesting person. His bright hair, his oblivious personality; somehow, she found her interests peeked at this seemingly restless young man. Yes, an amused smile did perk on her lips. Yes, she did feel a strange attachment. No, attachment was the wrong word, pull; she felt a pulling feeling towards this young man. So, it was in her best interest for him to amuse her further.

"You could have drowned, you know."

How long had she been there? His attention was solely on his board and things that he didn't notice the young girl sitting on the edge of the hill that lead to the boardwalk. Hiding underneath the wood, close to one of the stands, her feet dug into the sand, and her stoic face allowed no emotion to show. Her face was shrouded in darkness, but that much he could see because of the moon.

Ichigo had no need to fear this girl, but a worrying sensation ran up his spine at the sound of her voice. It could have been the fact that they were alone. It could have been that he did not how he came to shore. It could have been…it could have been that he was a boy and she was a girl made him uneasy.

It could have been, just maybe.

This did not stop Ichigo from remaining in his defensive pose. "Who the hell are you?"

He noticed a crack in her cool façade. Her lips quirked, but she quickly evaded it and shook her head. When she opened her mouth to respond, it was flat and cool, "I said you could have drowned. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

He didn't believe her. Shock didn't even run on his face. He didn't need moonlight to see that this girl was too small, too frail looking, to have saved him, if she did. If he had been in any danger he would have remembered it; who could not remember danger when danger would ultimately lead to death? Although his face told her he didn't believe her, she didn't reveal any sort of indignity to it.

Her legs were cupped under her chin; she wanted to smile. This young man made it too hard not to, with that scowl on his face, it made her somewhat sober. It also made her…fiery. "You don't believe me?" Her lips tugging on a pleased smile, "You do not believe that I saved your life?"

"No, I don't." His eyes narrowed suspiciously at her. Cool, collected, and not in the least upset at the accusation. He was calling her a liar right where she sat, but it didn't seem to upset her in the least.

"Is that so?" It sounded as if she was testing the very sentence, Is that so, trying it out for the first time. She stayed under the boardwalk, hiding from his view, but not willingly. She wanted to see if he would follow her under, curious to this young man's actions and thoughts. It was dangerous, possibly deadly, but something told her that his man was neither one of those things, unless provoked.

"You do not believe me?"

"Isn't that what I just said?" His voice was naturally gruff; it sounded more like a bark instead of a speaking voice. While his common sense told her that there was no way that this girl could have saved him, his instincts whispered another story. There were only two people on the shore; him and her. Aside from the stars, moon, night sky, and rushing waves, there were no other witnesses to stand trial.

"A thank you would have sufficed," she said confidently, "but I can take that too." She stood to her feet gracefully; Ichigo remained in his defensive stance. It was not a fight stance, but it held an authoritative look to it. The girl took his stance in a humorous manner; she casually moved herself away from the darkness and shadows. He could see the faint line of a smirk on her face. The color drained from his face.

"I doubt there is any way I can change your mind."

"There isn't a way."

She was a dainty, little creature. Her raven black hair framed her angular face perfectly, and her lips were thin, but they held a full lining to them as well. Her skin was pale, white, ghost-like; when she emerged from her hiding spot she appeared to be floating, much like a ghost. There was an airy, non worldly quality to her, and Ichigo was unable to describe it.

"Then tell me how you got that gash on your head."

It wasn't much, the gash. It was not too big, and it was not too small. He hadn't felt the pain until she mentioned it. He scowled at the self-satisfied look on her face that came into view when she blatantly pointed it out and surprised overcame his slight angered, stoic expression.

As she implied, he had no explanation for the semi dried blood on his face, which he hastily rubbed off, staring at it in mix emotions. The pain was not intense, but it was there, and he poked the tender spot on the side of his forehead, close to his temple, which caused him to flinch more in pain.

He glared at her,_ I told you so_, look.

She mocked his waiting expression. "Do you want me to explain it?"

"You seem to know."

The same sly smile crossed her face again, and it made Ichigo feel something more frustrating than anger. "You lost your balance on your board. You crashed into the rocks; I suspect that is how you got your gash. It looks bad."

It looks bad he thought angrily, but he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing the truth. Instead, he turned his head away from her, fighting off the urge to hit something, anything.

"I can bandage it for you, if you want." She smiled, "The blood may be dried but it can always reopen."

"You have a first aid kit?"

"Today must be your lucky day," she smirked, "I did bring my first aid kit with me."

He stared at the young woman who had yet to be named. The pain was numbing down, but it was only a matter of time before he could bandage it properly. He was impulsive, not stupid. He saw a benefit when he wanted to. Reluctantly, he gave a nod of approval at the idea. A glare of disapproval appeared when he saw the smug look in the girl's eyes when she passed by him, heading towards a red tow bag he hadn't noticed until that moment.

"Sit down and still. This will sting, but it'll prevent bacteria and infection." Spraying disinfectant on the open gash, the girl moved swiftly and without delay. Ichigo did as he was told; he didn't move a muscle, and he was patient. She reached back into her bag and pulled out the rest of her supplies, long bandage tape that was made of thick, clean material. She rolled his head slowly, but carefully. She used the light of the moon to assist her, and he stood still, still baffled by it all. This girl was the only person on the beach besides him; if what she said were true then she had indeed saved him. It made sense, but the girl was small, extremely small. Yet, if she did save him, then it was accustomed for him to feel a debt of gratitude towards her.

"What were you doing out there," she asked while bandaging, "I'm sure you know how dangerous it is."

She wasn't accusing, but Ichigo could not help putting on a defensive front. "What did it look like? I was surfing."

She clicked her tongue, "I know you were surfing, but why at the middle of the night?"

"I should be asking you the same question. A young girl at your age alone, on the beach; it's dangerous out here."

The girl frowned; she didn't like his accusing tone. "If you must know I come here to relax. Going out to the beach during the day is too much of a chore and a bore." She finished the first round of bandaging; she dug into her bag again, pulling out another roll. "It's too much trouble being surrounded by all those people; do you know how it feels? Too crowded."

"Yeah, I do." Surprised how easily the words of agreement flew out his mouth, Ichigo glanced up to see her reaction when she halted her bandaging. Her violet eyes were unreadable, staring down at him with intent inside them. Her head tilted to the side, and the same mysterious smile flashed at him again.

"I'm glad that you do, because it's hard explaining to everyone else." She used her middle finger to press down on the fabric and clasped it with a metal pick to make sure it didn't unwrap itself. "There, you're done."

Gently touching the fabric and instantly feeling how snug it felt around his head, Ichigo huffed.

"You can rewrap it when you get home if you can. This should stay up until you're healed," she sighed, "I wonder what time it is."

"Nearly three."

"I should be going." A smile tugging on her lips, she turned away from Ichigo and trudged upwards to the sidewalks. He watched her small form getting lost in and out of the sand, and a smug smile on his face when she stumbled. Still, she made it to her destination somewhat elegantly, glancing back at him to show him her knowing smile.

They were only a few feet away from each other. He started behind her with his board in tow, but he wasn't as furious to getting to top as she was. Finally, making it to her side, he panted; sweat beading his forehead and mixing in with the remains of the salt water on his body.

"Girl, thanks for the bandaging," he muttered, "and you know, for the near drowning thing."

She gave him a blank look, but when he believed he had offended her in some way, a small smile touched her lips. "Don't call me girl," her eyes shined into his, "my name is Kuchiki Rukia."

"Kuchiki Rukia?"

"Yes."

"Kurosaki Ichigo, thanks for saving me back there. Although I think you're way too small to swimming out there."

"Looks can be deceiving, and who wouldn't do the same if they had to?"

"Hm."

They stood in an awkward silence for a few more minutes. The urge to open his mouth and say something, anything to her, but he kept his mouth shut. Rukia blinked, feeling an uncomfortable feeling rising in her gut, but she shook off with a haughty laugh. "Good night Kurosaki Ichigo. I'll see you when I see you, and if I don't-try not to drown."

She went in the opposite direction; her dainty footsteps fading off into the night, with the rest of her body. He watched her go without a care in the world; an unknown feeling told him something different. It traveled with him as he walked home, nagging and nagging, pinching and stepping on his toes. Even after he retreated to his bedroom without waking a member of his family, he could still feel the presence, nagging him. It was too early to be thinking, but he was thinking. Pressing his head down on his pillow, curling in his bed sheets, Ichigo could still hear the feeling.

This would not be the last time he would encounter Kuchiki Rukia.

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**A/N: **I wanted Masaki to make an appearance earlier. I'm sure you, the readers, can tell what she did in her free time. How did I do? Please leave a review and tell me! I try not to make the chapters too long, but each chapter will vary in length as we progress. Reviews, alerts, and anything else is much loved and appreciated!

Until next time! Thanks again!


	3. Life of an Intern

**A/N: **The weekend before finals and this is what I am doing? Yes, this is what I am doing. I apologize for my definite lack of updates, but the stress of college has gotten to me. I can go on and on about it, but I'm going to sum it up for you. College is demanding, do not procrastinate, and it will kill your drive to write-aside from the numerous research essays you will be writing for college. Also, I don't know if it explains anything, but my jump drive that held all my stories and one-shots over the past two years FAILED on me. Yes, I had to do some rewriting when the chance was given.

**Plus**: I thank Mademoiselle Beta for the help she has provided. This young lady has definitely given me a vision on what I want to do with this story, and if it wasn't for her, this chapter probably wouldn't be up.

I apologize for the wait. I thank all those who read, reviewed, alert, and the overall support. So please, don't hesitate on reviewing; it tells me that I'm doing something right.

**Disclaimer:**I do not own Bleach. Tite Kubo does. I have only taken his characters to use them in my own, twisted, fangirl way.

**Read. Relish. Review.**

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Chirping birds outside the building sung soft, tuned lullabies in his ear drums. Afternoons in the summer were gently cool; the breezing air rustled his clothes and tickled the nerve ends on his hair. The scent of the day smelt vaguely of cherry blossoms, and it reminded him of the fragrance his younger sister, Yuzu, wore daily. Rare it was for the temperature to be stable and tranquil, he slouched into the metal bench, inhaling a strong gulf of the air. He sighed heavily, his chest releasing all the tension it was holding in.

Ringlets of smoke traveled from his lips into the blue sky, quickly evaporating as they approached the sun. Mid afternoons meant he was allowed to relieve himself with an early break; consequently, it also meant he would have to return early, forcing more work hours on his behalf. There had been numerous times since his arrival where he nearly willed himself to skip, but the possible punishments of his actions constantly perked inside his memory.

The taste of nicotine lingered on the edge of his lips, and he licked them hastily, cleaning the remaining traces. His back ached from the metal bench, and the bright sunlight stung his eyes that had become adjusted to the dimness of the hospital halls. His eyes traveled away from the sunny sky onto the flickering light of his cigarette bud, and they narrowed in slight disappointment. He reached his limit, and now his break was officially over. Soon, a nurse or worse, another intern, would be waltzing outside to find him. Then, he would be dragged from his sanctum back to the cruel world of illness, injury, and death.

Bright, strawberry blond colored hair peeked through the shade of the cherry blossom trees stationed in the back. The heat tickled the back of his neck, and a grimace covered his features as he pushed his body off the burning concrete. Flicking the used bud away, he glanced warily at his surroundings; he slipped a sigh of relief from his lips, and he stomped on the still simmering bud. If he could find any pride in this, any at all, it was at how well kept his secretive pastime was. He had to be cautious, calculative, and extremely patient.

Patience and caution, combined, was a virtue. There were too many times for him to count when he needed a smoke, just one puff, to pacify him for the rest of the day. His body ached for the kind substance eating away at his lungs, and the quick jerks in his body movements alerted others to stay away from him. For what reason? They never knew.

The distinct odor of nicotine smoke lingered in the surrounding air for the following minutes, but slowly it began to retreat into the nothingness of the memory. From where he stood, he could see members of the staff rushing out to the entrance to assist incoming patients. The flow of accidents and deliveries had risen over the past six months, and he inwardly scowled at the luck he had. It was never easy for him to forget how cruel his luck could be, and he stood still as the breeze swept past him one, last time. He needed the lingering smell of smoke to evade as well, and it only took a few sprays of Axel and a kind breeze to do the trick.

"Nothing interesting ever happens."

* * *

His footsteps casually carried him to the side of the hospital where an old, rusted door was locked shut. The red paint, once a bright color, had dulled over the years, leaving old spots of brown-reddish crust sprawled on it. The remaining piece of the door, the silver knob, held loosely on the door. Pulling out a key from his back pocket, he carefully jingled the key into the hole, and pushed the heavy door open with ease.

"I need stats on Nakashima-san."

"Please, correct the blood samples. We do not need another disaster."

Overhead, he could hear numerous voices. While, they were all very familiar, he could never match the voice with the correct face. Grunting softly, he treaded upward the aging stairs that would eventually lead him to the second floor, where his station was located. The voices above became stronger with each step, and he continued to wonder, by the pitches, at what was going on.

It sounded urgent, but not in the sense of an emergency. This didn't stop him from breezing up the stairs, a quick rush of adrenaline speeding his steps. By time he reached the door that was the lone barrier that kept him from the commotion of his job, he could recognize the voices on the other side.

"Where is Kurosaki-san? He's supposed to be here!"

"Ishida-sensei, Kurosaki-san left on an early back. He's not supposed to be back for the next ten minutes."

He wanted to laugh at the vision of the slightly younger man's face contorting to silent fury, "Great, the one time we need him, and he's not here. We don't have time to search for his lacking self. Please continue to prepare."

Behind the door, his regular grimacing face grimaced more. The curves of his youthful lips pulled downwards into an old man's frown, and his hand gripped tightly on the doorknob, shaking it in similar silent fury. He needed to swallow his agitation; the younger man was his superior, and he couldn't afford abusing his superiors. He locked his rising anger away for the time being and thanked fate for allowing him that last drag, and he pulled open the door.

The odor of anesthesia and medical fluid rushed into his nostrils the moment the door creaked open. Surprisingly, his presence had not yet been detected, and realizing his time was valuable, he quickly scurried to a nearby desk. Doctors, nurses, and other interns as himself waltzed in and out of closed doors; all carried check boards, and others were preparing themselves for whatever task they were assigned to. Quickly, his eyes darted to the clock on the wall; he had three minutes left before Uryu would traveled down the hall, to the left, and three rooms down to where he was supposed to be.

Perfect timing, he had enough of it.

Behind the ring like desk, papers and women were stacked. He gaped at the lack of identification the women gave him, but he had no time to frown over it. Today was an especially busy day at the hospital, and he had a feeling he was going to find out why.

Crouching in a corner where he was invisible, he watched carefully to see a path to where he needed to be. The halls were steadily clearing up, with everyone going where they needed to be, but his time was short and he couldn't hold out forever.

"Kurosaki Ichigo, it seems I have found you."

Ichigo blinked. He was in a position to dash down the hall comically, and the sharp voice made him curl back and stand up right.

"Ise-sensei, I was heading to my quarters right now...eh..."

The pointed face looking woman glared at him disappointedly, "I do not have time for your ehs, the Seretei is sending two of their best inspectors to survey the hospital today, and we need all of our staff at our disposal."

Subconsciously, he scratched the back of his head, "All?"

He swore he saw a vein make itself known right in the middle of her forehead. Ise Nanao was not known for her emotional outbursts. Using her index finger to push up her sliding glasses, the light reflected onto them, emulating a deadly glare that crossed her sharp features. "Now, Kurosaki Ichigo, I want you to head down to where you need to be, which is room BD-7 with the juvenile pediatrics, and await further instructions. Is that clear?"

"Yes, yes ma'am."

"Good." She didn't believe it appropriate to tell him to leave, and it wasn't. After she had finished her sentence, she was pleased to see the youngest of her interns briskly but practically making his way down the hall before disappearing into room BD-7. With click of her heels and clamp of her hair pin, she turned her attention away from the tactless young man and returned to her duties.

"Ma'am, those need to be filed accordingly. Let me show you, we use their last names alphabetically. It makes it much easier for us all."

"Yes...yes ma'am."

* * *

Although his lungs were beginning to coat with the ugly substance he inhaled on a daily basis, Ichigo was able to make it to his designated room without breaking a sweat. The pounding inside his chest instantly began to ease down the very moment he came to a halt beside one of the other interns, whose name he recalled as a Hanataro Yamada. The entire group of interns, older and younger, stood in a straight line. He could feel the once loose and free atmosphere dramatically change.

"You're really lucky Ichigo," his shorter friend whispered, "Ishida-sensei was becoming very angry when he couldn't find you."

"Should I be flattered or insulted?"

The color drained from the older man's face, and Ichigo was worried he was going to faint again. "Flattered, very flattered! You're the youngest anyone has ever become an intern, and your scores are undoubtedly one of the best! Ishida-sensei was only worried because he wants to show you off to the inspectors."

It was those words that forced Ichigo to take an honest, good look at the room he was in. Unlike the various closed rooms only for the staff, this room was visibly larger and cleaner. Ishida Family Hospital's floors were all made of the finest marble, but when his eyes searched down, he saw that this marble was finer than the majority. Chairs lined the sides of the walls, carving the picture of a boxed room in his imagination. Lavender had been sprayed all over the room, finally giving it a homely feel.

"What's up with this room?" His eyes continued to dart around, "This isn't like the other lobby rooms."

Hanataro gazed up at him worriedly. His own eyes were darting anxiously. "They're not supposed to," he squeaked, "this is where the inspection for the interns begin."

"Inspection? What inspection?"

The nerve to roll his eyes at his friend's cluelessness sparked him, but he was too full of bungled nerves to do it. Instead, he sighed heavily and made sure he was standing straight. "Haven't you been reading the weekly newsletters for interns? Every month the seretei sends four inspectors: Two presidents and two vice presidents to the hospitals for a week."

"Doesn't it get complicated? Four people to check out all those hospitals."

"Primarily in the Tokyo district, and the rest of the clinics are given to lesser known members who have qualified as inspectors." He nearly gagged on Ichigo's visible confusion, but again he pulled back, "This branch is one of the two branches where all the data and files are stored. I can't believe you don't know all this."

"Yeah, I'm just an intern, I thought I'd learn all this as I progressed. Besides, it's only a summer job."

"Still Ichigo," he hissed, "it's very important! We're all going to a university, and it is best we try to make a memorable impression on our supervisors!"

"...Oh I've made memorable impressions on our supervisors."

The mischievous air in his voice made Hanataro stare in fear and offense. He had never met a man who showed so little care for his future. Kurosaki Ichigo was a sight behold, and that was not the worst of it. He was intelligent, and his future was safeguarded. He knew, heard that once his internship with the hospital was over and he returned to school, he would be able to return in a few years time to descend on the Seretei's medical department.

He was considered a genius among fools. Everything was coming together for him, so Hantaro couldn't imagine why his eyes would constantly become jaded with uncertainty.

_Something's missing..._

He opened his mouth to say something, to reprimand him for his attitude, but when he did, nothing came out. Ichigo's attention had passed on from him, and the same faraway look clouded his vision. Even if he was going to speak, he wasn't able to, because his time was up.

"Hantaro Yamada, you are to go to the trauma department."

His face turned an intense shade of crimson at his name being called. Embarrassment touched his cheeks, as he slouched ever so.

"Sorry Ishida-sensei."

"Tch, yes," his words fell loosely off his tongue, "I am not sure why, but it appears you work well in stressful situations. It is best that you go now. Presentations will begin at eleven forty-five; do not dwindle."

Nodding his head furiously, Hanataro didn't give Ichigo a second glance before scurrying from the room, "Yes sensei!" Be careful Ichigo, we're on a tight rope.

Jittery people had an uncanny habit of annoying Ichigo. Their anxious nature and constant twiddling made him feel self conscious of his surroundings, giving him a reason to worry when there was none. There was constant conflict between their shattered nerves and his blithe attitude. He toyed with the idea of influencing his senior to take a drag, but the picture of Hanatro taking a smoke made him shiver. His thoughts rambled on about how he could help his anxious friend, but his time was also limited.

Ishida Uryu's squeaky shoes slid from one spot to another, and when he made his way directly to Ichigo's eyesight, his shoes sounded squeakier than ever. "Kurosaki Ichigo."

"Yeah Uryu?"

Uryu's eyes narrowed dangerously at Ichigo. "You do not address me in that manner. Remember, I am your boss."

"So is everyone else in this damn building." He rolled his eyes at Uryu's annoyed expression, "Where do you want me to go?"

Uryu became silent after a moment's time, and when Ichigo expected him to snap at him again, Uryu did the opposite. A careless grin appeared on his pale face, making Ichigo flinch in surprise. His all knowing grin made him fear more than his anger. "Some things never change, do they Kurosaki?"

"I guess not," he said skeptically, "what are you thinking Uryu?"

The same grin curled even further, "Nothing much, really. I'm suddenly remembering that you know the halls of this hospital inside and out. It doesn't take much to get lost here; even our oldest members have disappeared down the halls. But you, Kurosaki, seem to never get lost-in spite your track record with large facilities."

Ichigo's eyes narrowed in wariness, "Uryu...," his voice becoming low, "where are you going with this?"

"Nothing, nothing at all," his sneer grew, "only that you'd be the perfect guide for the inspectors this week."

...

"What the hell, no way Uryu!" In a flash his body became alive, and he started waving his arms in the air. He proceeded to hotly hiss profanities at Uryu, hoping this would coax him into changing his mind. The younger man with keen features remained unmoved; using his index finger, he pushed his sliding glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Are you done?"

"Yeah, I'm done."

"Kurosaki, don't think of this as a punishment," he made sure to brush off Ichigo's accusing look, "think of it as paying a debt."

Ichigo was ready to respond, but the knowing look in Uryu's eyes made him clamp shut before he could mutter a syllable. The silence was all Uryu needed, and a satisfied smile placed itself perfectly on his face. "See, was that so hard? You can head down to family care. Before you ask, yes, that is where the inspectors will be waiting."

He scoffed, "How many?"

"There will be four for today, but they will be separated into two groups. Two directors and two vice directors."

"What do I do?" The noises outside the room were becoming louder. Their time together would be ending soon, and this made him frown at his impending task. It was easier for him to complete a handy task: measuring, cleaning, assisting the doctors in an emergency. He found that it was easier for him to those things without a blink of an eye, but this, it was too much. This made his irritation with Uryu turn into anger.

"You only have to show them the two middle floors, the second and third. Introduce them to some of the patients, explain and show how we work around here, and be respectful."

"Common sense much, eh Uryu?" He scratched his head again, "Fine, I'll do it."

"Not that you had a choice," Uryu gave Ichigo a cocky smirk. When his lips drew up into the sad reflection of a smile, Ichigo was painfully aware of the lines etching around the sides of his mouth. The brightness of the lights made it easy to see that the job had been taking its toll on the young director, but Ichigo hadn't notice this much of a change until now.

He wanted to say something, he wanted to make it known, but he knew Uryu expected a deep frown and silence. His imagination provided a disturbing picture of a frowning Uryu looking older than he really was.

Was it wrong to be relieved from his presence? Ichigo didn't know, and he didn't care. His new assignment wasn't anything to look forward to, but to be away from Uryu's cold eyes and Ise's all knowing glasses, made him sigh in relief. His shoulders remained slumped, and his hands were dug even deeper into his scrub pants. The squishy feeling inside his shoes, specifically designed for this type of work, made him want to slap them at something-anything.

"Make two turns, then a right, the play pen where the children usually are."

_It gives them a homey feeling._

_But you, Kurosaki, seem to never get lost-in spite your track record with large facilities._

He didn't try not to get lost. It just happened. Besides, when you've been associated with the Ishida family as long as the Kurosaki clan have been, then it's safe to say that it was expected of him to know the hospital inside and out.

What did they take him as? An idiot?

"Doesn't matter," he growled, "today's gonna be a long day."

Ichigo didn't know how true those words were going to be.

* * *

"I am so sorry. It's not like him to be this late."

"This late?"

"No, no I mean he can be tardy every now and then, no one's perfect, but it isn't like him. Um...are you enjoying your stay in Karakura Town so far?"

Inoue Orihime knew she had a charming quality to herself. She knew, when needed, it would sprout from the depths of her mortal soul. All that needed to be done to find it was conduct some soul searching. To her dismay, she heavily doubted she would find her charm in an in-depth soul searching expedition in the situation she was in. It wasn't easy entertaining two members of the Seretei board, and she inwardly frowned at the lack of information given at the lecture meeting. Be polite, be cordial, be confident. It wasn't in her nature to be nasty or even rude, but she couldn't help but returning to that day to give a few helpful suggestions.

Be polite, be cordial, be confident.

The first two she had done to a pact, but it was the last one-confidence, that she lacked.

"We are having a good time Karakura Town. The differences outweigh the similarities, compared to Soul Society, but it is cozy nonetheless."

Some of her nervousness spilled away when the raven haired woman gave her a warm smile.

"That's wonderful. If you like, I can show you some of our tourist shops."

"Yes, I would like that, thank you."

Orihime wondered how old the woman was. She didn't appear to be older than herself; she found it strangely cute that she appeared much younger than that! Her childlike figure was overwhelming; it was hard to believe that she was one of the executives hired by the Sereitei. It didn't help that her eyes, wide and violent, were shaped in the way that forced the appearance of an ingenue. In spite of her initial intimidation of the woman, her pride and dignity was immense, Orihime quickly found herself feeling comforted by her presence as well.

"I'm sorry to say Inoue Orihime, but we're on a tight schedule. When will this begin?"

I'm want to know too. "It'll start as soon as your guide arrives, which will be very soon." She hoped her chuckle didn't sound as cracked as she felt. The children's area was a perfect place to begin, she had to admit; if were one of the other rooms, the more adult oriented, then the edge would have engulfed her.

"Matsumoto-san," the raven haired woman chided softly, "don't be rude. Inoue-san is trying her best I can see, and whoever this person is has a good reason to late."

Orihime's eyes broke away from the petite woman and locked onto the blond vixen. She even put her heavy breasts to shame, and her hair was a wild mane of flattering curls. Both women held a refined sense of dignity to them, and being in their company made her flush wildly.

"Yes, yes, I know all that, I have a hair appointment at five," Matsumoto-san whined, "I barely managed to grab a seat this time."

"And whose fault is that, Matsumoto Rangiku?" The raven haired woman rolled her eyes, "If you hadn't gone on that binge drinking spree you wouldn't have woken up late, and you wouldn't have had to make it up."

The buxom woman known as Matsumoto Rangiku pouted, "Aw, Rukia-chan, you're so mean. You should join us some time; it'll be fun." Sensing she was forgetting someone, she turned her focus to the younger woman sitting in front them, "And if you like, you can come too. We're always busy, and it's great to get some fun and relaxation!"

Being pulled into a conversation she wasn't aware that was going on made her flare up even more, twirling a lock of her luscious hair, she smiled easily at the gesture, "Thank you Matsuomoto-san, but I doubt I'll ever get the chance. School is second to the expectations the hospital requires.

"Ah, so you're still school, eh?" She clicked her tongue, "This hospital has so many interns, it's a miracle that you're able to keep files on all of them!"

"Ishida-sensei keeps us altogether with the help of Ise-san," she said proudly, "they're very dedicated to their job."

"The head director's son?"

"Yes."

"I don't even know why they make us do this." She sighed dramatically, slouching into her plastic chair, "The uppers know that this hospital chain is better than all the rest in Japan. I say it's a waste of time to make us go through this every month of the year."

"It's only a precaution, Matsumoto-san. We need to ensure that all the hospitals are doing as they should, no offense to you Inoue-san."

"None taken."

"I know, I know," she pouted, "but you two should still come with us, I'm positive you'll be satisfied with the fun we have!"

Rukia and Orihime gave each other a knowing glance before, "I'll think about it."

Matsumoto Rangiku gave the two women a watchful gaze but said nothing more of the topic. She would hold for a later time; she wasn't the type of woman to give in so easily. They remained in a comfortable, slightly less tense silence. Orihime watched the ticking clock on the side of the wall; she didn't want to how worked up she truly was. Although she felt a little less edgy, she knew they could feel it. Her hopes were dwindling down, and she prayed that nothing bad had happened to him. Her nervousness was quickly warping over to panic, and she could feel her nails digging through the thin fabric of her scrubs. Time was beginning to move so slowly that she could hardly calculate an emergency coarse of action.

If he wasn't going to arrive, then she was going to have to do it.

She was going to get into trouble; she had other duties to attend to.

The door swung open. All the pent up concern, worry, and fear flew right out of her. She didn't know a deep sigh ran out of her mouth until her chest heaved in, and she briskly rose from her chair and hurried to where her companion swiftly moving in.

"Kurosaki-kun, I thought you weren't going to make it!"

His face was apologetic, "Hai, I'm sorry. I lost track of the time. Is everything okay?"

"Oh! Everything is fine. Just a bit late, that's all." He was reassured with her giggling.

Orihime was not an incredibly tall woman, but she was tall enough to block the view of the man who had entered the room. He wore the same mint colored scrubs she did, and his voice was mumbled in an apologetic tone. Sitting in her chair, she couldn't help but feel that she had heard that voice from somewhere.

"Oh," Rangiku giggled, "what a handsome young man. Look like our Hime has a crush."

"Matsumoto-san, please stop eavesdropping. It's rude and tactless."

The woman went on as if she hadn't heard her. "Nice voice, fine muscles, and what bright, orange hair! Looks natural too."

_Orange._

"Kurosaki-kun, I'd like you to meet Matsumoto Rangiku and Kuchiki Rukia."

Ichigo didn't know whether Rukia had felt the same crippling sensation gripping his spine or not, but he held onto the faint hope that she did. In the instance that Orihime casually stepped away from him, giving him view to set his eyes on the two women, he felt his breathing stop midway. Rukia sat idly in her chair, her body flinching in the tiniest way but still noticeable. Her brain raced with various actions to take, but she found nothing suitable for the time and place.

Fortunately for her, he didn't give her an option. Transparent shock shrinking away, his lips turned into a grin that was reminiscent to the one from the night they met. He didn't open his mouth, but she knew somehow that he recognized her. Orihime and Rangiku sensed a shift in the atmosphere, but they said nothing of it. The older woman broke through and smiled dazzling smile, reaching her hand out to Ichigo. "I'm Matsuomoto Rangiku, vice director of the tenth division."

"It's nice to meet you, Matsumoto-san." Their hands shook briefly before she withdrew; her cat like eyes staring him down with suspicion.

Ichigo's eyes didn't hold on the older woman for long. Instantly, they turned to her shorter, younger companion. Her eyes gazed on him in the way he remembered, and he inwardly scoffed at the memory. They appeared the same in the light as they did in the night. A sharp glint existed in her eyes, and he held back a deep chuckle that was threatening to release itself.

He reached his hand out to her, and he spoke to her in the same manner he spoke to her on that first night, "Kurosaki Ichigo."

Her handshake was firm, and he wasn't surprised by it. He followed her slow moving pace. When she tried to stifle a knowing smile, he noticed it, and hid a smirk behind his lips

"My name is Kuchiki Rukia, Vice Director of the 13th Division." A smile that was invisible to others shown her face but he could see it perfectly, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Kurosaki Ichigo."

* * *

**A/N**: I don't know if you know this, but your opinion matters to me. I want people to enjoy my writing, and clicking the alert and favorite buttons are wonderful to me. I truly appreciate reading your thoughts and constructive criticism in reviews; they mean love to me. Forgive me for the editing; this chapter has been my own editing. It's gotten better because of school, but I know I've missed some. Also, forgive me for lack of updates-again, college is killing the drive, mostly.

Bleach has such a large cast of characters. It's hard to use a small majority; you're going to be seeing other characters as well. And yeah...I made Ichigo a smoker. I think it makes him look cooler, but that's just me. Don't worry, his addiction plays a part in the story. Rukia is a part of the 13th Division, although Byakuya has made it fully aware he wants her to take his place when the time comes. Renji is still VD of the sixth division though; I'm not going to dawg Renj it out. I like him.

If you, the audience, has read anything that seems iffy or as such, please do tell. Thank you again.

Reviews, alerts, and anything else is greatly loved and appreciated!

Have a wonderful weekend and future week! Until next time!

**~mtp~**


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